


Surprise

by Paia_Loves_Pie



Series: Soft Smut Sunday [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28962756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paia_Loves_Pie/pseuds/Paia_Loves_Pie
Summary: It's Greg's birthday, and he's made a specific request.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Soft Smut Sunday [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672735
Comments: 22
Kudos: 123
Collections: Rupert Graves Birthday Collection 2020, Soft Smut Sunday





	Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_n](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_n/gifts).



“Where are we going?” Mycroft asked. Greg’s hands were warm and gentle in his as he was guided slowly forward, step by step. 

“You let me worry about that, okay? Just follow along, and no peeking.” 

“I hate surprises.” 

“Liar. You  _ love _ surprises because nothing ever surprises you.” Greg’s voice was light with a grin he could hear. 

Mycroft smiled, but refused to acknowledge that Greg was right. The blindfold was soft over his eyes, snug and plush - clearly purchased specifically for whatever Greg had in mind. Mycroft spared a moment to worry about the time - they had reservations in a few hours for dinner, special arrangements in place with the chef and the staff for Greg’s  _ very special _ surprise birthday present, and tickets to a show afterward. Mycroft just had to trust now that Anthea had taken care of the details and it would all go off without a hitch. Greg clearly had plans of his own.

“You just follow along and let me handle everything, okay? I’ll take care of you.” 

Mycroft squeezed Greg’s fingers. “Very well, birthday boy,” he said, shoring up his courage. “Do as you wish.” 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Greg’s tone grew gravelly as he carefully walked Mycroft into the bedroom. 

Mycroft relaxed as he felt them cross through the threshold to their room. The pile of the carpet, the trajectory of softened sound. He knew this place in his marrow. Only good things ever happened here - he was safe in Greg’s hands. 

“I thought I was supposed to spoil  _ you _ today, not the other way around,” Mycroft grumbled, unseriously. 

“Well you look like a present to me, sweetheart,” Greg warbled. “Now, stand here, and let me see.” 

Mycroft waited, unsure. He couldn’t pinpoint what Greg was looking at, precisely, with his eyes covered. Mycroft was only wearing his day suit - nothing out of the ordinary - but Greg had always taken a special delight in looking at him. If he’d known he was going to be  _ observed _ he’d have dressed up a little sooner for dinner, though, given what he could expect to happen, perhaps his best suit was better off staying safely in the wardrobe for now. His neck flushed as he recalled what had happened to the  _ former _ best suit. He’d kept the buttons as a memento.

He startled a bit as Greg’s hands suddenly brushed over his chest with a low approving rumble, sweeping firmly over the breadth of him, just feeling him out. Fingers slowly began undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one, parting the fabric to caress the skin underneath. Mycroft let out a slow breath, enjoying the touch, and relaxed into it. This was familiar. A tease he was more than willing to indulge. 

“So handsome,” Greg murmured to him. The admiration both embarrassed and bolstered him, as it always did. Greg’s hand traveled to his wrists, unbuttoning the cuffs, then slowly swept his shirt backwards off his shoulders, letting it slump to the floor. Mycroft’s mouth twitched, he hated clothing crumpled on the ground, but he was willing to let it slide - he would rather see what Greg would do next. Mycroft could feel the blood rising to his face, but did nothing to stop it. The endpoint was inevitable - but he wanted Greg to get them there.

A cheeky tug on his belt buckle answered his question as the leather was pulled from the loops. Then the zip rasped downwards over his thickening cock with a sly grope that had him gasping. Greg’s hands always had that effect on him - easing him out of his head and into a rising tide of a more carnal nature. His pants followed his trousers downward, and Greg deftly helped his feet loose from the cloth, stepping him forwards out of the pile of clothing now decorating the floor. Mycroft hung onto Greg for balance, but didn’t miss the opportunity to sneak a squeeze or two of his own.

Mycroft felt a bit like a doll, being undressed and moved about, but he didn’t really mind. For once, he didn’t know all the details, and the thrill of it was crawling up inside his ribcage.

“Stay there,” Greg said, pressing a kiss to Mycroft’s cheek as he stepped away towards the wardrobe. He came back a moment later. Mycroft could hear something rustling in his hands. At the first touch of silk on his skin, Mycroft’s lips parted in a sigh.  _ Oh!  _

His skin prickled against the cool sensation as he was swathed in the decadent cloth, one arm at a time. The collar was laid neatly around his bare chest, and a long fabric tie wrapped loosely around his waist. A warm puff of breath was his only warning before Greg placed a bristly, scraping kiss against the dip under his throat. A sharp pinch of teeth sent his heart spinning wildly. 

“Isn’t it customary to  _ unwrap _ one’s presents?” Mycroft’s voice wasn’t as steady as he’d have liked. He resisted the urge to beg for Greg to simply press him down into the bed. 

“Not when you look that pretty in a robe,” Greg said, rubbing a thumb over his nipple through the silk. “Now, let’s sit you down and you can let me get everything ready.” Greg turned him by the shoulders and walked him backwards until Mycroft’s thighs bumped up against their bed. He sat a little ungracefully, but Greg was careful not to let him fall. 

“Greg…” His assumptions for what was about to happen hadn’t included any ‘things’ beyond what they kept in the side table. 

A scraping sound signalled that Greg was pulling the chair from the corner of the bedroom to a spot closer to the bed. Normally Greg used it as a second closet to drape his trousers and ties over, but apparently it was being put to its proper purpose tonight. There was some shuffling and bumping as Greg traveled around, gathering things from the wardrobe and setting them by Mycroft’s feet. The snap of plastic wrapping. The clank of a large metallic...something. The water in the en-suite turning on, filling something, then turning off again. 

All the pieces came together as Greg lifted his feet, one by one, and guided them into a wide metal basin full of decadently hot water. Mycroft grunted in slight surprise - of all the things he’d imagined, a spa had not been it. The warmth lapping at his ankles called to mind the many lazy encounters they’d had in the tub together, and his cock thickened in a Pavlovian response. 

“Are you comfortable?”

Mycroft huffed a laugh. “Yes.” 

“Good.” And that was that. Greg took hold of Mycroft’s left hand, where it had been resting in his lap, and drew it close to him. Mycroft sucked in a breath at the first glide of warmed lotion across his palm.  _ Oh. _ The spiced, heavy scent of sandalwood filled the air.

Greg’s hands were broad and strong as they kneaded the muscles below his thumb, sending zinging sensations up his arm. Greg’s thumbs pressed deep into his palm and Mycroft groaned, submitting into it as the muscles in his hands and fingers were manipulated. Then the sleeves of his robe were gently drawn upward and Greg worked upward, deep into his forearm, pressing a light kiss to his wrist as he finished. 

Mycroft’s breathing had gone slow and heavy. Greg had given him massages before, but usually they were functional for the sake of relieving his headaches. This felt different. Reverent. Mycroft didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t hold back his more subtle responses. He didn’t want to.

When Greg reached Mycroft’s elbow, he slid the sleeve back down over his skin, covering it, and then picked up his other hand. Mycroft made a soft noise in the back of his throat as he realized they were going to be here for a while. His cock set up a mild complaint at being ignored. The rubbing and caressing of his hands had translated very directly into an acute arousal. Before long, he was squirming where he sat. 

Being deprived of his sight made him more aware of Greg’s touch - every sensation was elevated. The glide of warm, solid digits over his palm, his wrist, the delicate underside of his arm where the skin was thin and sensitive. He could hear Greg’s breath growing rougher, the steady in and out being interrupted by a subtle hitch now and then. 

Mycroft tipped his face up in a silent request, desperate for more connection. He  _ wanted. _ Greg made a pleased hum, and his clothing rustled as he leaned forward to place a soft, warm, breathy kiss on Mycroft’s lips where they waited for him. The teeth that scraped his bottom lip were absolutely criminal when paired with a sensual, slick, stroking of his index finger, a suggestive glide from root to tip.

Just as the water at his feet was beginning to cool, Greg sat back and drew one foot from the water up onto his lap, placing Mycroft’s heel on a plush towel. His toes were dried carefully, reaching between the toes, patting the top of it softly. When Greg’s thumbs dug into the arch of his foot, Mycroft couldn’t help it anymore - he sagged backwards into the bed until he lay flat on his back, submitting to the fact that Greg was determined to spoil him into a puddle. Mycroft’s hand was still hot and soft and a bit slippery as he grabbed his cock. 

Greg tsked behind his teeth as he rubbed a teasing thumb up and down the center of Mycroft’s foot. 

“Save a little for me, won’t you?” he asked softly. “I’ve got plans for that.” Mycroft groaned a little in protest as he jacked it once, and then twice more, unable (or perhaps just unwilling) to stop himself. But then he slowed to an idle stroke, just holding it a bit, easing some of the pent up energy. He could wait. 

The smoothing glide of Greg’s fingers down the center of his foot made Mycroft ache and arch into the pressure. He fanned his toes, indulging in the sensations and Greg took the opportunity to slip his fingers wetly between each toe in a way that ought to be a crime, when his cock was  _ right there _ . Mycroft had no idea what time it was - how long they’d been there. Dinner be damned - if Greg wanted to pet Mycroft head to toe for his birthday, who was he to protest? Although his prick was certainly making its complaints known. 

He was so lost in thought and sensation, in the silence and the darkness that had blinded him, that the first touch of lips to his ankle made him jerk slightly before relaxing back into Greg’s grip. 

“Alright, sweetheart?” Greg asked softly, his voice low and warm and...worshipful.

Mycroft made a pleased noise in his chest as his hand took up a leisurely rub once more. “I have a small request, if it’s not too much trouble,” Mycroft said. 

“What’s that?   
  


“For the love of Christ, please come over here, get naked, and touch my prick.” 

Greg laughed, ending with a giggle that sounded just a touch hysterical. “Alright,” he said simply. There were some rustling noises as Greg presumably dropped his own clothes by the bed. Then the weight on the mattress shifted and Greg crawled over to where he lay supine, waiting. Greg’s knees bracketed Mycroft’s hips, straddling him. He was blissfully bare, and his skin warmed against his lover’s touch. Greg bent down to kiss him. Firmly, licking into him and going back for more until they were both breathless and Mycroft’s hands were grasping at Greg’s hips with an urgency that wouldn’t be put off for much longer. 

Then suddenly, Greg sat up. Against Mycroft’s protests, he picked up Mycroft’s left hand to kiss that as well. Once. Gently. 

“I hope you don’t mind about the late notice,” Greg said softly. A touch nervous.  _ Why is he nervous? _ “But I’ve finally figured out what I want for my birthday.”

“Well I’m not certain what you had in mind, but I can offer up a supremely satisfying blowjob if only you’ll bring your cock  _ over here _ .” He tugged impatiently and Greg’s laugh jostled the bed. “Whatever it is, you’ve only to ask, Greg, and I’ll say yes. We’ve been over this.” 

Greg shuffled about, and then, as his hand began to tremble where they clasped Mycroft’s fingers, Mycroft felt a cool slide of metal encircling his third finger, being settled to the base of it. His heart nearly stopped.  _ Is that…? _

“Well I hope that’s true,” Greg said thickly, as he gently pulled the mask up and off Mycroft’s face. 

Greg’s expression was impossibly soft, and full of hope, and Mycroft just stared at him, stunned, before confirming that a (very lovely) engagement ring had just been placed on his finger. 

“Say yes,” Greg said when the silence stretched ages too long. Mycroft reached up and pulled Greg’s face close to his. 

“Well now you’ve gone and ruined my birthday present,” Mycroft said ruefully, turning over and reaching toward the side table. He turned back and presented Greg with a small box. 

“Surprise,” he said, helplessly. 

Greg gaped at him, half nerves, half outrage. Then he sucked a noise against his teeth. 

“You still haven’t said yes,” he pointed out as he carefully took the ring box from Mycroft. 

“Greg, you had me a long time ago.”


End file.
